Thoughts on A Name
by IamthePhantomoftheOpera
Summary: Oneshot. Dr. Lecter thinks in bed about various things, mainly his name and a certain girl...Mildly humorous, I hope. Didn't come out quite as I planned, but it turned out okay. Meant to be short, is VERY short. So...please read & REVIEW!


I lie in bed, but I do not sleep. Instead, I think over something which has long been a topic of thought for me – my name. It is a name that has struck fear into the hearts of countless people, a name which will always be associated with the goriest of stories, the darkest of tales. My name has even inspired works of fiction, among the darkest, the goriest, and – to my revulsion – the most romantic. This brings me to something else I often find myself considering: Officer Clarice Starling. I cannot help but shudder at the mere thought of her. I do not hate her, as I hate the majority of the human race; she is far too interesting. I think back to when I was still in a basement cell, when she came to me, still just a trainee, asking for advice on a case Jack Crawford was having trouble with. I chuckle for a moment, remembering the fun I had, but then, an image of Clarice invades my thoughts, her face grinning up at me. I shudder again and roll over. I do not hate her, as I've said before, but contrary to the beliefs of an atrocious amount of people (most of whom are members of the female portion of the population), I do _not_ love her! I shall repeat that, to make it completely clear: _I do not love Clarice Starling_. I am a psychopath, a cannibal. I do not have feelings for anyone. Just because I do not resent her does not mean I love her, and it is because of this ridiculous belief that I cannot bring myself to think of her for more than two minutes. The mere idea of having her on my arm at a theatre makes me sick. In fact, I can feel myself beginning to turn green…Back to my original thought. My name. Hannibal Lecter. _Hannibal_. When I was a child, I didn't pay much attention to it. You don't, when you're a child. It was just…my name. I couldn't imagine being called anything other than Hannibal, just as now I can't imagine a certain Clarice Starling calling me by that name. But now…now I've lived in the United States, among names such as "Bobby," and "Cameron." And then I think back on my name…and I cannot help but wonder what my father was thinking, when he named me. Though it does rhyme nicely with "cannibal," thereby giving me a rather catchy slang name, I cannot help but wish I my name was a bit less…bulky. Yes. That's the word to describe it – bulky. With its length, and "-bal" at the end, it is by no means a graceful name, or even a pleasing one. It's very solid, yes, but solid in the way a two-hundred pound high school student is solid. It's…heavy. I do not know what name I would have preferred; I only know it would not be Hannibal.

I sometimes go on like this for ages, beginning on how it does not go with my rather nice last name of Lecter at all, but tonight I tire at last. I roll over to my other side and concentrate on nothing so hard I fall asleep.

_FIN._

**Couldn't resist that. Ever since I started ****Silence of the Lambs****, I couldn't help but wonder at the author's decision to name his brilliant killer Hannibal. I don't know what I would have named him…maybe something like Erik? **

**Nah, that's just Phantom obsession showing through for a moment. Sorry. Anyways.**

**Yeah…I've just never liked the name Hannibal. Like I made the poor Doctor say, it seems bulky. Not the name of a brilliant, psychotic, and (in my mind's picture, anyway) thin Doctor. And I couldn't resist throwing the thing about Clarice in. I haven't actually read all of the second book (I got about half way through before my mom decided I was not allowed to finish it under any circumstances), so I don't know the exact terms of how Harris wrote the two "getting together," but she (my mom I mean) summarized what happened for me and…I was just like, "No. Not happening." In fanfiction, sure, you get all sorts of weird pairings there, and actually Lecter x Starling is the first one I would think of, but when the author starts writing what is basically a really long fanfiction for his OWN story, it's just…no. Again, excuse the Phantom obsession, but it's like if Gaston Leroux had written "So Christine went back to bury Erik, tears streaming from her eyes, and found that he was, in fact, alive and well. So she ditched Raoul for the ever-hot Erik and they lived happily ever after and had three beautiful children." (For those who may not know – for I'm fairly certain it's not common knowledge – Gaston Leroux wrote the original ****Phantom of the Opera****novel.) Anyways, I'm ranting, sorry. I'll stop.**

**So basically, I hope you liked it, short as it was, and please, please review! (Or I'll send both Lecter AND the Phantom after you.)**


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